"No!"
"Yes."
"No!"
Leaning against the wall, Daryl observed three sky-blue eyes glaring at each other.
Two against one.
"Carl!" Rick growled dangerously.
"Dad, no! Why are you sending me away to the Oceanside?! Harry is staying here! Why can't I? I am not a kid anymore. I can fight, too!"
The hunter could see that that Rick was about the lose patience his oldest offspring, who was right now mirroring his father with his wide stance and crossed arms…
Stubborn boy, just like his old man.
Daryl was still angry with his friend… well, angry was probably the wrong word. He was disappointed. Somehow, he had expected more of Rick.
More of Officer Friendly.
But maybe he was being unfair. None of them were what they used to be before the apocalypse.
And maybe that was unfair because none of them had really been able to shield Lydia from her mother. Not like they should have. Not until it had been almost too late.
Rick was about to open his mouth… but somehow Daryl doubted that whatever his brother had to say to his son, would help to defuse the fucking tense situation.
It was like Carl was thirteen again.
"Sure, yer can." The archer grumbled at the young one-eyed man, interrupting them gruffly.
Both, father and son turned to him. Carl grinning victoriously and Rick looking betrayed and sour.
"We know yer can fight. Fuck, yer old man and me taught ya how ta… which is exactly the point why yer goin' ta go with them kids." Daryl continued in rough rumbling sound.
Carl gapped, but Rick had finally caught on and straighten up.
Maybe Rick would start talking about the stuff that really mattered now and rubbing has with his wayward offspring.
"Daryl's right. Wanting to protect you is only half the reason. The reason why I want you at the Oceanside is the same, why we're sending Sasha, Beth, Noah, Enid, Aiden and Benjamin with you…"
Brows furrowed, Carl glared at the floor.
"The ones protecting the rear are just as important as the front line." The former Sheriff put a calming hand on his son's shoulder.
"Even with Harry's help… there're a fuckin' thousand ways for shit ta hit tha fan." Daryl agreed darkly. "If we mess up… Them kids and old ones need protection. They'll need someone to teach them how ta live. Ta survive then. And for the record nobody ain't happy 'bout Harry fightin'. I'd rather have him with Lydia in Oceanside"
The boy was grinding his teeth in frustration. Fist balled tightly, before he spun around poking his father in the chest with a finger.
"You're not going to die! You hear me! And when I come back from the Oceanside you'll better be all here, too."
The last sentence was directed at Daryl as well.
Stifling a grin, the hunter raised his hands in a placating gesture.
"We're counting on ya, kid."
With a stiff nod Carl stormed away.
Turning to his friend, Daryl shook his head.
"That boy's so clearly yours."
"Hey!"
"I ain't meaning that in a bad way." Daryl shrugged. "Even when yer pig-headed as fuck, yer mean well."
A look of surprise filtered over Rick's face, before he settled into an expression of solemn regret.
"I know I might not be worth much… but I am sorry!"
Daryl just grunted.
It was as much acceptance for the apology as he was able to give right now. They had bigger problems now anyway.
"Yer ready for Alpha?"
Lydia was sitting in the kitchen, watching with big eyes how the Whisperer baby squirmed in Connie's arms. The young, deaf woman was currently feeding the small boy some heated cow milk.
"Is he going to be ok?" The brown-eyed girl asked Paul, who was holding her close on his lap.
Since they had left the interrogation, she had hardly left his side and for that the bearded man was grateful. Having her by his side calmed the anxiety in his chest somewhat. The image for her little form being led away by Rick, would resurface again and again, tearing his heart apart every time.
They had nearly lost her.
Because she had wanted to protect them. Because she loved her mother.
A mother that didn't love her in return.
So, cuddling her close and feeling the warmth and weight of her body against his own was reassuring.
Lydia was still there.
And she had chosen Harry, Daryl and Paul.
They were not perfect, not by a long shot… they had proven this today, but she chosen them none the less.
"The little guy had one hell of a stressful day and he's a bit dehydrated but nothing too serious." Harlan Carson informed Lydia. The resident doctor had taken a look at the baby as soon as he had cleared his wayward apprentice.
"So, he's not going to die like Joshua?" Lydia asked Paul, insecurity and doubt clear in her voice.
The long-haired man winced when he remembered the poor little boy, pulling his girl a little closer, he tugged a stray lock behind her ear.
"No. Remember what Harry told you back then? Joshua had been really sick since he was born… That's not the case here." He said gently. "This one looks quite strong, don't you think?"
Lydia scrunched up her nose cutely.
"Hmm… yeah… I guess. I mean, for a baby? He's still really small. Not like Gracie or Judith." She frowned at the squishy little boy, causing Paul to chuckle.
"Is he going back to his mom?" She whispered suddenly and the former Hilltop scout flinched.
The question seemed innocent enough… but after the day they all had…
Lydia sounded sad… resigned.
Paul swallowed heavily.
"I… I don't know, chipmunk."
"His mom just gave him to the Walkers…" Lydia pointed out, her brown eyes still fixed on the baby's little fist clutching the bottle.
"I'm not sure if she really wanted to… but yes, she did…"
Her little face looked contemplating.
"What if she doesn't want him back? What will happen to him then?"
"Look at Connie holding him and how Dr. Carson took care of him… If she doesn't want him or she's not allowed to, then someone else will take care of him. He'll be loved and cherished, I can promise you that." Paul pressed a little kiss on the crown of her head.
Lydia clutched his sleeve.
"He will forget it."
"What?"
Paul blinked in confusion.
"Since he's still so little… He'll simply forget. He'll never have to remember that his mama was a bad mama." She whispered almost too softly for Paul to understand.
But he heard her.
And he understood was she was telling him.
Lydia wouldn't… couldn't forget.
Their little girl would carry the memory, that her mother had abused her and hadn't loved her enough, with her.
For her whole life.
Paul sucked in a breath.
"I am sorry, chipmunk. I am so sorry about your mom. I wish things would have been different. That she didn't have to…" Paul hid his own guilt in her tiny shoulder.
There were so many things he was sorry for.
Alice Baker abusing her daughter, not loving her enough.
That they had nearly send Lydia back to her.
That Alpha had to die.
"It's not your fault." Lydia leant against him, patting his head.
"Do you miss her?" Paul dared to ask softly.
"No." Lydia pressed her lips into a fine line, before frowning. "A bit. I miss the mama… she… she could have been… I don't know if this makes sense." Sad brown eyes looked into cyan ones.
"Yeah, that makes senses, I guess." Paul assured her. "And it is ok to miss her, you know. To be sad. Despite everything, she's your mother and not everything might have been bad… It's ok to remember both. The good and the bad."
After that they fell into an emotionally exhausted silence. Lydia leaning heavily against his chest, they both watched the obvious baby boy in Connie's arms.
Sasha was showing her how to burp him. And when the dark skinned sniper tickled a tiny foot, the baby squealed in happy delight, causing all of them to grin at the joyful sound.
Suddenly Lydia tugged on Paul's beard, a habit she had definitely adopted from Harry.
"You know…I may not have a good mommy. But I have three good daddies now, don't I?" She asked, smiling tentatively at him.
Paul thought that his chest was going to exploded. His throat felt tight. There were many different emotions rushing though him right now.
His sweet and brave girl.
"That you have, honey. We'll do better form now on. We love you so damn much! I promise! You have us, as long as you want us and even then…" He choked up, tears gathering in his eyes.
He could feel her trembling in his arms.
"I love you, too." She whispered wetly. "And Daryl. And Harry. I'm really glad you found me."
"Me too." Paul mumbled into her hair. "Me too."
They needed to hurry.
There was little time as it was. And Daryl didn't want to waste any more of it. Harry had already started on the damn evacuation process, hopping from community to community to bring fighters to the Hilltop and Alexandria and taking the kids and elderly to the Oceanside.
All able-bodied fighters had already begun to secure the area as well as possible on such a short notice.
The clock was ticking.
All of they could hear it in the back of their minds. Time was running through their fingers like fine sand.
Lydia was still here, with Paul looking after her. It probably wasn't wise to delay her departure like this… but neither of them felt at ease with letting her go just now.
And it wouldn't bother Daryl half as much if Alpha and those Whisperers' bastard weren't still alive and kicking within the Hilltop walls. Not that they could escape or harm Lydia… but the hunter knew he wouldn't breathe easy until they were dealt with.
He wanted this over and done with.
Ideally without involving Harry or Lydia too much…
Or at all.
So now with Paul distracting the girl and Harry occupied, they had the best chance.
Together with Daryl, Negan, Rick, Ezekiel and Maggie had assembled to pass judgement and execute the sentence on Alpha and her lackeys.
Hoping to scare her people into helping them, they had decided to let the other captives witness Alpha's death.
All of them were silent, stoic even… staring hypnotically at the bald woman in her cell. All but the young woman, the one who had brough her baby with her. She was whimpering and crying softly.
She had done little else, hadn't asked after her child. Hadn't demanded to see him… or to get him back…
Nothing but miserable crying, rocking back and forth with her dirge.
It seemed like she had already given up.
"So, you've come back…" Alpha cooed softly, her cool and calculating eyes causing Daryl to shiver in unease. "Come to kill me after stealing my child."
A high pitched whimper left the crying young mother in the other cell.
"Be silent." Someone hissed at her.
Daryl could see Maggie narrowing her eyes at the pitiful woman. The brunette chose to ignore Alice Baker for a second and crouched down in front of the cell holding the crying mother.
"Your child is well." Maggie informed her softly.
Another desperate wail answered her.
"What's your name?" Maggie tried again.
Rigorous head shaking.
"It's not too late for you. You could still go back to him. You could live here with him. Help us against the horde, against Beta… Not all is lost. What's your name?" Maggie offered softly.
More head shaking, and a panicked glance at Alpha.
And Alice Baker, who had mobilized her group to get her own daughter back and had all but compelled another woman to let her own baby become Walker lunch, simply shook her head, causing the poor creature to yowl in desperation.
"This is the end." Alpha hissed softly. "This world is dead. Only those who commit to the way of the dead will continue to walk. All of this." She made a big gesture at the cellar and directed a glare of pure disgust at Maggie, before addressing the grieving young mother. "All of this will fall. They're just too blind to see it yet. They're dead. Your son is dead."
A heart wrenching sob was ripped from the poor girl, as she flung herself to the floor.
A pitiful, quivering heap of anguish.
"Yer all thinking the same?" Daryl snapped at the other captives.
Looking around the cells, the hunter was only met with dead-eyed determination in each dirty, gaunt faces.
Fanaticism shining through every pore.
Alice Baker had successfully brainwashed her people, who'd follow her cult to the bitter end.
Daryl drew his hunting knife, hoping that at least one could be intimidated enough to chose something else but death… maybe if one fell, others would follow.
Alpha smiled at the sight of the knife, looking slightly delusional.
"Can you see beyond the darkness? Can you see the light?" She asked lightly, trying to appeal to her folks.
Soft, awed humming answered her.
"Nah!" Daryl interrupted harshly, but to no effect.
Alice Baker laughed.
"I'm tingling with joy as I see the ones who broke me... All around us, standing here." She purred and despite barely speaking above a whisper, but her voice seemed to carry.
The other Whisperers staring at her with wonder and desperation, some silently sobbing, as their leader raised her head.
"Thank you. Thank you." She muttered feverishly. Addressing people who clearly weren't here.
Shit, this was going out of control.
Catching Rick's pinched expression, his brother was feeling it too.
"Thank you for making me strong." She looked directly at her people now. "Pain made me. Pain made you." And looking at Daryl she added. "Pain made my Lydia."
The bunter was gritting his teeth.
"Shut the fuck up! You lost Lydia. You drove her away. Because you didn't love her." He growled, but Alice Baker wasn't listening.
"I am no longer weak. I am stronger than ever." Her eyes were wide as she spouted her nonsense and Daryl was glad that Lydia was far away from that woman.
"This changes nothing." She gushed, waving dismissively at Rick and the others. "My horde will butcher and consume you. This is the end of the world. We are the end of the world. Your screams will be my lull…aby…"
Negan had grabbed the gushing woman through the bars with one hand, using the other to burry his own knife in her throat.
Alice's wide eyes seemed to mock them all, as they slowly turned lifeless.
Everyone was staring at Negan.
"Man… what?" Rick started, as the man ripped the knife out of Alice, letting her tumble to the ground.
Horrified screams from the other captives around them filled the cellar. The death of their guru caused quite the reaction from those skin freaks.
~I wasn't going to listen to her nonsense any longer.~ Negan signed, with a shrug.
~Besides, I thought it might be better if none of you offed bambi's mom. If you catch my drift.~
Yeah, Daryl got it. Just all too well… and while he wouldn't admit it. He was kind of thankful. If he had to, he would have done it…
Rick might have done it, if it came down to it…
But the idea that Lydia would call the men who had executed her mother family… even if she understood… well, it had left a stale taste in Daryl's mouth.
He had hated his daddy and there had been days when Daryl had hated Merle, his family had consisted of assholes who got into real dangerous trouble all the time… he had always guessed that none of them would grow old.
Either drinking themselves into an early grave or getting their skull bashed in by the next dealer they wronged.
And yet… he had grieved for them in his own way, even his good for nothing daddy.
Just like Harry had grieved for that sorry excuse of an aunt.
So yeah, Daryl was relieved but he wouldn't say it and so he did what he always did… He scowled and grunted.
Considering the shit eating grin on Negan's face the bastard understood anyway.
Fucker!
Ezekiel turned to the shocked Whisperers.
"Her way… Your way, is not the only way." The King spoke up in his usual theatrical way. "There is still a chance for you to change."
Nothing but stubborn silence was his answer.
The Whisperers had chosen.
Damn!
In a sad way it made sense… Daryl thought. Alpha had probably taken her most loyal with her on this excursion to get her daughter back… Those she trusted not to be swayed by a better life.
Her most faithful.
And now they would die with her. For a mad woman's delusion.
Kept blissfully unaware by what was going on at the Hilltop, Harry was jumping between the communities.
Taking kids from the Hilltop to Oceanside. Taking fighters from the Oceanside to Alexandria. Taking children and elderly from Alexandria to Oceanside. To the Kingdom. And fighters from the Kingdom to the Hilltop and from the Hilltop to Oceanside and from there to the Kingdom and further again to Alexandria…
Apparating this much and taking so many people along with him was begin to take a toll on him. The wizard could feel his stomach rolling with the beginning of magical exhaustion. The physical stress was weighting on him like a lead blanket, making his muscles quiver in discomfort and overexertion.
'Fuck, I'm tired. I didn't expect it to be this bad, so terribly fast. For Merlin's sake!' Harry thought drowsily, feeling short of breath.
Blinking, Harry tried to strive stubbornly against his heavy eyelids.
The job wasn't even nearly done!
Fuck!
There was still so much to do… too much for Harry to falter, yet…
And when he stumbled a little, Siddiq was already on him with a critical frowning expression. The doctor had been eying him with worry since the second landing in Alexandria.
"Harry, you need a break." He admonished the green-eyed young man.
"What? No! I'm fine. Just a little winded." The wizard swatted his hoovering friend away, being completely unsuccessful in his attempt to dispel Siddiq's concern.
Instead, the man crossed his arms and pulled on all his authority as Alexandria's physician.
"Are you forgetting that I asked Hermione about magical healing and maladies?"
Nah, damn…
Yes, Harry had forgotten that little detail, indeed…
"Uhmm…" He tried, but Siddiq's keen eyes took note of the Brit's unhealthy complexion.
"You're pale and your skin is starting to look clammy. You're breathing is uneven and you look tired as hell. Those are signs of magical exhaustion."
Busted!
"Siddiq! I promise, I'm being careful, so that no one gets splinched, but we don't have time…" Harry pleaded, hoping to make the man understand that there was no room for dillydallying about unimportant things…
"Exactly! We don't have time for you to collapse. So, please be sensible and rest for a bit, drink something, eat something! You're obviously exhausted! And I don't need Jesus kicking me to death or an arrow in my backside! Your husbands are scarry!"
Harry's exhausted brain was still working on producing and formulating a sound argument when an excited shout drew their attention.
"Oh Harry, there you are!" Radiant as ever, Tara was bouncing over to them with a broad grin.
"Tara? How did you…?" The wizard felt confused.
Had the Apparation been that loud?
"How did I know you were here?" The brunette laughed. "Easy, all coffeemakers in the area started working on their own as if by magic."
Siddiq snorted.
"Not exhausted at all, are you?" He smirked, knowing that he had won their discussion before Harry had even got his foot in.
So, the wizard settled on the adult thing to do… he stuck his tongue out at the doctor, causing Tara to laugh again.
The young woman bumped her shoulder against him playfully before presenting him the biggest coffee cup with a grand gesture.
"Here!" She grinned teasingly. "I thought since you went through the trouble of getting my coffee machine to make one, I'd bring it to you."
Allowing Siddiq to guide him to sit on the door step to the infirmary, Harry accepted the hot beverage from Tara.
Then he suddenly winced and turned to the woman.
"Fuck! I'm sorry! Daryl and Michonne hate it when my magic messes with the coffee machine… It makes the things go wonky and afterwards the coffee tends to taste… strange." Harry apologized, rumpling up his hair in embarrassment.
"Ah, don't sweat it. I love it! It's like being at a hipster coffee shops in Atlanta again and testing out all the funky new flavours. My personal favourite was when Rick's and Michonne's machine made coffee that tasted like cherry and peppermint." Tara tugged on a wild black lock.
"Hmmm… I remember liking the peanut butter-lemon combination." Siddiq added with a wistful smirk.
"Yeah, Michonne and Daryl are just too conservative with their coffee. They only drink black coffee so strong that it's short of lethal." Their female companion joked. "And I know that Jesus and Rick sneaked more than one cup, when your machine produced that insane chocolate chilli flavour."
Tara's good-natured humour and easy-going attitude lifted some of the tension in Harry's muscles and he had to stifle a laugh when he remembered the look of betrayal on Daryl's face, looking disgruntled in his cup after the first gulp. Cursing that his morning coffee burned his tongue like Merle's squirrel chilli.
"Ok, I'm taking a break. One hour. Not more!" Harry muttered, rolling his shoulders, holding his forefinger up for Siddiq to see, who exchanged a grateful look with Tara. "Does that please the doctor?"
"Alright! This is agreeable. An hour of rest won't be too bad." The physician said, patting the wizard's slender shoulder.
"Good." Harry nodded decisively, forcing himself on his feet and on the way home. "I'll have to do some research one way or another. I may as well use the time now."
Behind him, Siddiq groaned.
"That's not what I meant! Put your feet up, eat something, drink some water to that coffee and maybe take a nap… Damn it!"
Looking over his shoulder Harry smiled tiredly.
"I can do all of that while going through some books… well, minus the nap." The wizard waved distractedly.
Harry's mind was already somewhat absent, going through conversation he had with Hermione years ago.
The stakes were so freaking high.
Even if they dealt with the Whisperers, if he didn't find the right spells to attract the horde, all of them would be fucked! The future of four communities and their children rested on the theory that Harry could pull the horde away with enough magic.
But then what?
Could they really leave this massive number of Walkers roaming through the area? In the worst case they would only delay the confrontation with that threat…
A horde of this size could be easily turn around and they would stand in front of the same problem again.
Somewhere in his books… there had to be a spell that could help him to disperse the Walkers…
Sipping on his coffee, Harry browsed through his books.
It was there. Nagging at him.
Just in the back of his mind.
A memory.
Something Hermione had mentioned.
A spell.
Something that they had discounted early on in their research and discussion back in Hogwarts…
It had to be in his books. Somewhere…
Suddenly Harry stopped. Wide green eyes were running over the pages with rapid speed, a feeling of triumphant dread was settling in his guts.
There!
He had found it!
Surprisingly, the spell was easy enough and so he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and started to work.
He had no room for mistakes but none for hesitation either.
Harry winced still feeling the exhaustion very much in his bones. Apparating had seemed like a good plan but maybe Siddiq was right after all. If the young wizard was honest with himself another 10 to 15 apparations didn't sound very appealing… In fact, the thought had his belly rebelling with nausea.
And the chances that he would be able to fight the Walkers were dimming rapidly.
Shit!
Until now he had avoided making portkeys for their communities. Having a bunch of untrained and unsupervised muggles trying to handle one hadn't sat right with the wizard. Afraid that this would only end in accidents and injuries, none of them could really handle, he had deemed the idea unsafe.
And even more importantly, portkeys still reminded him of the third task... the graveyard and ultimately of Cedric's death and everything that had come after...
Some of Harry's worst traumas had started with the distinctive feeling of a tug on his navel. He had never enjoyed travelling with a portkey, but now the thought alone caused him to break out in cold sweat, his stomach rolling with unease.
But right now...
His exhaustion left him with only so many options. As miffed as he wanted to be about Siddiq scolding him, the fact that Eugene was probably three doors down, drinking ginger coffee, made most of Harry's arguments obsolete. He'd drain himself too much if he continued to apparate everyone around like this.
So, three short distance portkeys it'd be…
The green eyed wizard huffed in silent displeasure. This would be a huge relief for his magical core but since he refused to let anyone use the devices without him, it still meant several jumps with the portkeys.
Balling his fists tightly, Harry tried to curb the rising nausea in his guts and to forced himself into Denise's breathing exercises.
He could handle this.
He needed to.
Later tonight he could allow himself to panic and to crumble a little when Daryl and Paul could be there to pick up the pieces.
And so, he forced his shoulders to drop and his feet to move.
Lydia had left her mother for them... for him. Their daughter trusted them and she relied on them to keep her safe from this overwhelming threat. Fuck, she accepted that her new family was going to kill her old one.
His 11 year old girl had decided to be brave, had said goodbye to the woman who had given birth to her...
All Harry had to do was travel via portkey a few times.
Time to nut up, Potter!
He needed to talk to Eugene.
Harry sniggered a bit when he found Alexandria's resident genius as predicted in the kitchen of his own house investigating the coffee maker.
"Harry, my magical barista! This is certainly a top notch variation of my favourite caffein beverage. The pekan-cedar combination is a real kick to taste buds. A real shame we're lacking pickles at the moment. They would be an extraordinary addition to this adventure." Eugene greeted him with his usual monotone staccato, causing Harry to laugh lightly.
"You're probably the only to appreciate it to this extent." The wizard winked, sending a silent apology to Michonne and Daryl, who definitely would be cursing if their coffee tasted like cheese.
"Eugene, could you please check these numbers for me. I had to draw them up in a hurry." The green-eyed Brit handed his research for the portkeys and the spell over.
"Portkeys?" The man with the mullet frowned. "Ya never wanted to make one before…"
"Yes, and to be honest I still don't but Siddiq gave me a good telling-off for draining myself with too many side-along apparations."
Eugene's expression of confusion immediately turned to one of concern and Harry felt a small surge of warmth for the socially awkward and often clumsy man.
"I rested…somewhat. And I came to the conclusion to adhere to doctor's orders." Harry smiled, raising his hands appeasing.
After another scrutinising look, Eugene turned to the papers the younger man had given him, humming and nodding as he checked everything for errors.
"The values look correct, my friend." Eugene offered him when he was finished, pointing to the portkey paper. "But this leaves me a bit puzzled…" Alexandria's genius waved the spell paper. "Are those protecting and focus runes?"
Ah…
"Yeah." Harry nodded, hoping Eugene wouldn't ask too many questions.
"Seems simple but stable. You've gotten the hang of drawing this kind of thing up." Despite the situation the wizard felt somewhat proud of the praise.
"Thanks, Eugene. At times like these I am cursing my twelve-year-old self for taking the easy way with my studies. Ancient Runes and Arimathicy would have much more helpful than Divination." He joked, but Eugene was still focused on the spell sheet.
"But the values for the itself spell look a wee bit strange. Never seen this in any of your research before. Have you consulted with the magical lady in chief aka Hermione about this?"
Harry forced himself to stay calm.
"Ah yes, the spell is something Mione and I looked into when I was back in Hogwarts a few years ago. Don't worry." Harry laughed a little awkwardly.
He really didn't want to explain the spell to Eugene…
"Listen Eugene, thank you so much for helping out but I have to go now. I still need to do a few more jumps between the communities and I don't want to keep you from preparing Alexandria against the Whisperers." Harry quickly added hoping to steer the conversation back to more pressing matters.
Giving the other little time to add anything, he gathered all his stuff and rushed towards the door, throwing in a cheerful:
"Thanks for your help, Eugene. I really appreciate it."
He skipping away to create three portkeys and ignored Eugene's puzzled frown.
It was Harry's penultimate stop at the Hilltop and soon it would be dark…
It meant that it was time to say goodbye to Lydia, at least for now. He found her with Paul and Daryl, minding the horses.
The little girl all but flew in his arms when she spotted him and Harry felt some his own tension and unease after all those portkey travels drain away, when he felt Lydia's comforting warm seep through his clothes.
"Hey pumpkin." He muttered, pressing a small kiss on the crown of her hair.
She clung to him a little tighter and a small tremor ran through her slight frame.
"Mama is dead." Her soft whisper was nearly lost in the fabric of Harry's cloak.
Wide green eyes looked at Paul and Daryl. The later nodded grimly.
"We needed ta do it before they'd come." The hunter offered gruffly and Harry nodded somewhat dazed in understanding.
Maybe it was relief of not having to kill Alice Baker himself or it was empathy for Lydia who had just lost her mother or maybe it was just plain mental and physical exhaustion but tears were rising in his eyes blurring his vision.
Daryl's slated blue eyes went wide in alarm at the sight of Harry's distress.
"Darlin'…" he breathed, looking absolutely wretched.
Lydia raised her head to peer at the wizard. Her little face was sombre but her eyes dry.
Her little hand reached up to brush a stray tear off Harry's cheek.
"Ah, sorry sweetheart…" Harry sniffled.
"Paul said it's ok to be upset even if mama wasn't a good person." She offered solemnly, causing Harry to crouch down and hug her again.
"And he's absolutely right." Harry mumbled into her hair, feeling her clutching him tight. "When all of this is over, we're going to find a pretty place for your mom to rest, like we did for Joshua… okay?"
His only response was a tiny nod against his neck and the feeling of tears wetting the fabric of his shirt.
"I love you so much, pumpkin. We all do." Harry whispered through his own tears.
Warm presences engulfed the two of them from both sides, providing safety and comfort, as Harry relished in the familiar smell of his lovers and two pairs of strong arms holding their little family together.
Whatever the next day would bring, he would do everything in his power to protect this.
Lydia had been about as happy as Carl about going to Oceanside while her new fathers would face the Whisperers and a huge horde of Walkers but had relented in the end. And she had hugged both Paul and Daryl for a long time and had demanded reassurances that they would be alright, that they would come back for her, before she had allowed Harry to take her away.
It was already late in the evening when Harry finally finished his transportation task, having helped Lydia to settle in Oceanside with Carl and the other kids, before taking one last portkey to the Hilltop. The final landing was even rougher than before, having Harry stumble and nearly crashing into the floor.
Merlin, portkeys were the absolute worst.
Barely keeping himself upright, he stopped short at the sight that greeted him.
Daryl and Paul were sitting on the steps of Barrington house, obviously waiting for him. Harry all but flew into their arms, the trouble and stress of the day mercilessly catching up with him.
They were there, taking all his anxiety in stride just as Harry took theirs.
All of them could feel the strain on their nerves, stretched thin by everything they had endured.
Without words they pulled their small wizard into deep kisses, leading him to their room for the night, so that all of them might catch a few hours of rest before they had to face reality again.
And reality came so much faster to haunt them then they had hoped.
The scouts reported suspicious movements in the early hours of the morning and without out the information they had extracted from Alpha, they would have been totally fucked.
The Walkers would have overrun the community before they could have rubbed the sleep out of their eyes.
But now they had a fighting chance.
And Merlin be damned! They were going to use it!
"Stay together and be careful!" Grabbing his cloak and his firebolt, Harry kissed his husbands deeply.
"You too." Paul muttered, faltering.
The long haired ninja was clearly upset to let Harry go off alone, where neither him nor Daryl could offer any back up. But neither had argued with him about the plan beyond the first discussion.
All of them knew what was at stake here and that their options were very much limited at the end of the day. And it wasn't like Harry was overjoyed to leave them behind, either. He, as well, could only trust in their skills and hope that they would make it out in one piece against the Whisperers.
Daryl regarded them, looking grim and hesitant, expression clouded with worry. The man would never be comfortable to leave Harry on his own, not after all the things that had happened in the past…
"I'll try. This will be over in a heartbeat. You'll see and then we'll take Lydia back to Alexandria." The green-eyed wizard tried to sound self-assured, stroking his thumb over Daryl's sharp cheekbones.
The archer breathed harshly in and out, eyes clenched close of a second.
"Love ya." He grunted huskily, looking straight at Harry, who could feel himself flush with warmth and longing for his gruff Hufflepuff.
"I love you, too." The wizard smiled adoringly at his husbands, pressing a light kiss on the small marks that symbolled their bond.
"I love you both so freaking much. Don't you dare to do anything else but coming back to us in one piece! Got it?" Paul let out a tiny and very shaky laugh.
Harry tried not to feel guilty when he buried his hands in Paul's long hair to kiss him.
Daryl watched Harry go with a deep rooted feeling of unsettlement. Sure, their little wizard had explained the plan to them a few times by now and this wasn't another Dolohov situation but he still felt fucking uneasy, letting Harry out of his sight like this.
With Lydia at the Oceanside and Harry off on his own mission it felt like their little family was falling apart… which was stupid…
But…
The hunter tried to remember how he and Rick had fought in the beginning back in Atlanta, the prison, those weeks on the road. He had been half feral back then, less scared… because he had less to lose.
He kind of wanted that mindset back right now, fighting like this had somehow felt easier.
A smaller, calloused hand gripped his own.
Paul.
Paul was here.
And Harry was going to be back in a few hours.
And after that they would be going home with Lydia.
Daryl tried to repeat those thoughts like a mantra.
"It's going to be alright." Paul mumbled, with the same light hint of uncertainty that haunted Daryl's heart and mind.
"Yeah… We've got this. We're ready. We gotta be." Daryl swallowed his anxiety.
He had opened his heart since the world had gone to shit. It had been a fucking huge gamble. But loving Harry and Paul had made his life so much richer than he could have ever hoped for and then they had found Lydia… a daughter. Aaron had once joked about Daryl having father potential but the abused redneck in him had cringed away from the thought of raising a child with his lovers.
How could he not?
And now this little brown-eyed girl had become the most important person in their lives and he wanted to rip anyone who had ever hurt her to pieces.
Yeah, a shit ton of stuff was at stake here. Daryl's heart and soul were at stake here and it scared the shit out of him but he would fight all the more to keep them safe.
Inhaling deeply, he tugged on Paul's long hair.
"Yer need ta tie this up, can't have yer going inta battle half blind, 'cause yer got shit obscuring yer vision. Also, ta easy ta grab." Daryl grumbled with out heat, enjoying the feeling of silky tresses running through his fingers.
Paul snorted, leaning his head against the hunter broad arms.
"You're one to talk, when was the last time you allowed Beth to cut your fringe. Maybe we should find some cute little hairpin from Lydia to keep your eyes free." Cyan eyes gleamed in mirth.
Daryl growled playfully, causing Paul to laugh.
This kind of easy banter felt nice, comfortable and definitely better than this anxiety ridden tension.
"We'll be fine." Paul repeated, while pulling his hair into a tight bun on the top of his head.
Daryl grunted affirmatively.
His bright eyes serious and focused. Dressed in his old leather duster, combat gear and his hair pulled up and out of his face, Paul looked stunning.
The archer pulled his ninja into a fast kiss, the last one he would allow himself until they had won against those masked fuckers.
Paul responded eagerly, his hands brushing over the stumble on Daryl's cheeks and over his hair. A mischievous tongue begged the hunter for entrance and distracted him enough that he didn't notice the hand gathering his fringe until he felt a sharp pressure on his head and the tell-tale click of a hairclip snapping close.
"Hmm, this suits you." Paul hummed, grinning from ear to ear, while Daryl glowered at him.
Maybe it was unimportant, but the hunter couldn't keep himself from self-consciously looking into a mirror.
It was indeed one of Lydia's clips, one of her favourites… because it had reminded her of Daryl, she had said once. It was formed like a small wing, in white and light blue. A bit like the wings on archer's vest…
He kept scowling at Paul, but made no attempt to remove the clip.
It was fine.
The Whisperers didn't come with a bang… not like Negan would have send his Saviours. No, these fuckers creeped slowly closer to them.
They were hard to spot in the fading darkness of the early morning hours and the residual fog hanging over the vegetation boundary between forest and fields.
Negan would have made a huge entrance shocking the enemy into submission, showing people who was the fucking boss. But those skin freaks came almost silently, with shuffling sounds and groans… and entirely too many Walkers.
Fuck!
Negan cursed silently, stowing away his spy glasses, he pulled his mirror out and tapped the signal into the magical device.
Hilltop and Alexandria needed to get ready…. And Harry needed to get these fucking undead fuckers away from them or they would be royally fucked.
As soon as possible.
And as fucking far as possible.
The mirror in his hand reacted, vibrating. Harry's serious green eyes peering back at him.
~ They're there?~ The wizard signed.
Negan nodded, signing his coordinates.
He could see that Harry turned his head away biting back a curse, before turning back to the scout.
~Alright. Retreat to the Hilltop. I am on my way.~ The green-eyed minx looked grim.
Negan didn't need telling twice. He used the fastest way back to the manor, not bothering with the actual streets, cutting straight through the woods and a few fields.
It didn't even take more than maybe ten minutes before a loud wailing noise erupted somewhere behind him.
There were little to no shouts to be heard…
And then a round of four to five explosions banged through the fading night. Looking over his shoulder he nearly thought that the sun was starting to rise before he realized that the light, giving the sky a soft golden reddish hue, was coming from the wrong cardinal direction.
Harry was already lighting fires under their asses.
Damn, Tinkerbelle really isn't wasting any time, isn't he?
Twenty minutes later Negan slipped through the gates at the Hilltop, where all able-bodied fighters had gathered. Grouchy Pants and the Ninja Messiah stood close to Hilltop's boss lady, her Korean hubby and Big Red.
~ We have a head start. 15 min. ~ He signed. ~Green's already working on the distraction. Let's hope this works.~
Both of Harry's lovers seemed relieved to see that message. Jesus even graced him with a small smile and a nod. In turn Negan decided wisely not to comment on Grumpy's choice of hair styling… as out of place as it may be.
"Good let's get this rodeo rolling." Red's moustache vibrated with tension and part of Negan still wanted to shave that thing very badly.
They had built up defence lines with sharpened trunks, pointing at any possible attacker, before the main wall. As well as archers on the wall.
Everyone else was armed with knives, swords and spears and dressed in as much amor as possible.
And then came the signal from the outlooks…
Fuck, it hadn't even been 15 minutes.
Big fires were gleaming from the outlook posts, illuminating their battle field.
Grimly they marched forward to confront the enemy outside the walls, from the corner of his eyes Negan saw a lot of familiar faces…
Connie hadn't gone back to Alexandria like her friends had, instead she and her sister had chosen to stay and fight here, assisting the archers on the wall with their slingshots.
He met her soulful dark eyes when he moved outside with the other fighters. There was something earnest and kind about this woman that made Negan's old, dead heart behave strangely.
Maybe Harry was right after all. Maybe it would be good to talk to Connie himself before she heard anymore about him from other people.
Not now, but later…
After.
Behind him he could hear Grumpy grumble at Jesus.
"No fancy bullshit this time. No playing around. Too hard to tell who's alive and who's dead…"
"Yes, I get it. No getting stabbed this time." Jesus huffed fondly at his lover. Negan could easily hear the eye roll in his voice. "Dully noted. And it goes without saying that I expect the same."
The only answer Negan could hear was a low grunt from the stoic hunter that could have meant a bunch of things but was probably a form of agreement.
And then nobody had time to concentrate on the people behind them, only the disaster that was in front of them.
Thankfully there were a lot less Walkers than before, so Harry must have been successful in weeding out the herd. Still no reason to rejoice yet.
There were still at least one maybe two hundred Walkers in front of them and who knows how many living enemies added to the mix.
Maggie raised her arm and the archers got ready, shooting the first volley of arrows.
Some Walkers fell soundlessly, some continued unfazed and right in front of Negan, one screamed in pain when an arrow pierced his neck.
That scream was the go-ahead. And the heat picked up.
Walkers ran mindlessly into the sharpened ends of trunks and Hilltop's fighters cut those down. A young woman, who's name Negan didn't know dropped her weapon by accident, while getting grabbed by a decaying fucker. The former boss of the Saviours cut the corps' hand of before poking his knife through the sorry bastard's left eye.
Nodding in thanks, the woman hurried to pick up her spear and both of them returned to their bloody task.
Suddenly, Negan noticed him.
Hard not to…
The hulking figure, whose face was only half hidden by dead skin and lanky hair, while the lower half was covered by a seriously gross and overgrown beard… dressed in a long leather duster with distinctive brass buttons, and was that a fucking waistcoat underneath?
Well dude, there's nothing like going out in style.
The man was broad and towered easily over most of the people, dead or alive, surrounding him. And Negan didn't need to get closer to feel it.
This overpowering intent to kill. To reradiate anything in his path.
A true psycho and if the commentary of the late Whisperers was anything to go by that dude was probably pissed as hell at them for killing his psycho lady.
Yeah, no doubt this was their man.
Beta had arrived to the party.
The head of the snake.
Whistling sharply, Negan got the attention of wizard hubby one and two. With a few hand signs the pointed their new main target out to them. Seeing grim determination settle on both men's faces, Negan was sure they had gotten the drift.
Take that fucker out! The faster, the better.
And so, the three of them got moving, cutting through waves of undead flesh, spilling blood, guts and brain mass in the process. Negan had to admit that Green Eyes' loverboys were fucking strong. What hobby Jesus lacked in pure strength, he compensated with pretty technique, dancing and fucking kicking through the horde and its living shepherds.
Grumpy opted for a much rougher method in a well-practiced mixture of fist fighting street style and swinging around two impressive hunting knives, his trademark crossbow still resting on his back.
Probably even less refined Negan hacked with his sword at attackers' heads left and right, but it did the job just fine, until it felt like he had run into a brick wall…
Well, not a brick wall as it turned out.
Just 200 pounds of enraged muscle.
Nice.
Beta had found Negan! And he looked beyond furious, snarling like a rabid dog, revealing crooked and distinctively golden teeth.
Fancy.
"Where is she?" The man whisper-growled, darkly.
Negan shrugged, unable to answer even if he had been inclined to do so.
Frustrated with the lack of response, Beta snarled again. A little louder than before and threw his massive fists at Negan.
And oh fuck, that bastard was fucking fast for such a huge guy.
Another punch was coming and this time Negan was a little too slow to duck in time, he got decked straight in the face.
Holy shit, that asshole packed a freaking punch and the former leader of the Saviour was pretty sure that his nose was broken now.
And that fucker wasn't letting up, either. Another blow caught Negan against the cheekbone and fuck if he hadn't heard his own bones creaking under the strain…With still ringing ears, Negan had to scramble backwards to regain his footing, barely able to dodge the next attack.
Yeah, yeah, big guy we all got the message.
Hulk smash.
God, he missed the ability to talk shit right now so badly. At least then he wouldn't feel so fucking naked against this tank who was obviously trying to bash in his head with his blank fists.
"Where. Is. She?" Beta growled.
There was an unwavering determination in the wheezing speech, but that was nothing against the mad kind of desperation glinting in the man's eyes.
The kind of desperation for a woman, Negan knew just all too well.
"She's dead." A new voice suddenly stated harshly from behind Beta.
The giant spun around and Negan saw Daryl, who had been hidden completely by Beta's hulking frame.
"We cut her throat and burned her." Slated blue eyes surveyed the leader of the Whisperers, calculating and surprisingly calm.
Damn! Seeing, Grumpy being all fluffy around Bambi, Green Eyes and Jesus, could make you forget what an ice cold bastard the man could be.
Telling someone that their most precious person was gone like that. Phew… vicious!
"NOOOOOOO!" Yowling like an injured animal Beta rushed forward, whatever strategy the man might have had flying out of the window called grief.
The loud wailing shout had alerted Walkers to their position, so that all three of them had to duck away from grabbing hands and rotting teeth. It was a strange dance with Daryl and Negan swinging their knives and sword, while Beta parried with brute strength and now two huge daggers.
One of those nasty things grazed Daryl over his eyebrow and only a doughty step back saved the hunter from a lobotomy. Blood was flowing freely down the man's face and into his eye, causing him to swear nastily.
Sensing an opening Beta pursed Daryl, lured in by the promise of revenge.
Negan followed.
His own sword raised for attack, when a fourth figure flew in and delivered a clean roundhouse kick straight to Beta jaw, throwing the Hulk off his chase.
Jesus barely reached Beta's shoulder which made the kick all the more impressive.
Negan didn't hesitate, mobilising some more strength to counter the strain in his arms, he plunged his sword into the huge back before him, not knowing that Daryl had used the same confusion to drag his hunting knife in a bold move over Beta's throat.
That Negan's sword didn't hit his ally, as well was pure luck.
With a low gurgling sound 6''3 of hulking muscle slumped to the ground.
Dispassionately Daryl drove his knife in the kneeling man's temple.
"A… Ahh. Al… ph…a…"
Devoted to his last breath, Beta died with Alice Baker's pseudonym on his lips.
Panting heavily and covered head to toe in gore, Negan, Jesus and Daryl looked at each other.
They had done it.
Beta was dead.
And in a way it felt like the living had prevailed over the dead.
Harry was clutching the handle of his broom, shivering a little. To keep a good overview over the horde and the Whisperers, he had to fly quite high and the sun still wasn't up… without any warming charms he would be in deep trouble by now.
Below him were still so many Walkers…
It had been pretty hard to shepherd so many of them away from the Hilltop and Alexandria. From above Alpha's and Beta' battle strategy had become quite clear. The main fraction of the horde had been steered to the Hilltop, while a smaller but no less dangerous amount of Walkers had been led in the direction of Alexandria.
And they move in waves…
Which meant that there still more coming, Harry knew then that he would most likely be unable to draw the first waves back, too much time and space lay between them.
He just hoped that Rick and Maggie would be able to protect either community from the first onslaught.
Boldly placed cutting curses helped to weed out at least a few Walkers and if Harry heard right, he had also hit five, maybe six of the Whisperers shepherding the undead. Their startled screams and whimpers of pain causing their 'guardians' to turn on them. Sickened by all of this Harry had chosen the cowards way and had averted his eyes, choosing to use the distraction to his advantage.
He had proceeded to use a broad range of spells creating a lot of noise and lights to draw the walking corpses away from their keepers. In the beginning it had been like a little tug war between him and the shepherds, who had been annoyingly good at conducting the wayward horde back on track. But with each shepherd that got taken out, the task had become a little easier.
And the more the horde followed Harry, the more the confused and scared Whisperers stood out in their mid. Observing them showed the wizard just how difficult their life style was… a wrong or hasty move, a startle sound leaving their lips at the wrong time was enough and the whatever protection the surrounding Walkers might have given the Whisperers, was gone. Turned against them.
There was nothing natural about this. None.
The living weren't supposed to wither away with the dead like that, forsaking everything human in them. Alpha may have helped them to survive but the cost…
Harry felt his stomach heaving as he hoovered over yet another poor soul who was uncanny silent while the 'guardians' ripped him into bloody pieces.
The sight was terrible but it also strengthened the green-eyed man's resolve.
He needed to succeed with this.
Just leading the horde way was not enough… too dangerous… too much of a gamble.
Gripping his wand tightly, Harry fired a few well-placed 'bombarda's and 'incendio's to the horde's flanks to keep the Walkers from fanning out too much. And then he continued to fire a small firework of spell craft to guide them, laying out a trail of breadcrumbs for them to follow.
Harry had now a certain destination in mind for them and with it a hopefully permanent solution for the problem the horde presented.
He headed for a deep canyon, he had spotted on the maps the day before.
It was the only place that might contain this calamity.
Eugene was heaving in exertion. Rick, Michonne, Tara, Aaron and Eric were sitting beside him, equally drained and covered with blood.
They were leaning or sitting against the huge wooden stakes, they had rammed into the ground as a first barrier against the enemy.
The Whisperers had tried to bring a flood of Walkers to Alexandria's gates but they had been prepared, building two defence lines and organising their actions into a controlled resistance.
It had worked… but barely.
They had experience fighting the dead…
And they had experience fighting the living… but fighting living aggressors mixed and hidden in between the dead had been the challenge.
Eugene could see now, why Jesus had gotten stabbed, when he had first encountered this particular threat… although the man was one of the most skilled fighters in Alexandria.
Having a Walker suddenly evading you or attacking you with a knife… was very much unsettling.
What you saw, didn't match, what you got anymore.
A new kind of mimicry.
Fascinating and scary as hell.
At first it had seemed like there was no end to the flood of attackers, but slowly and surely, they had managed to thin out the herd. And in the last 30 minutes they had stopped coming entirely… Which could only mean that Harry had been successful with his part.
All in all, they could be considered lucky… they had only lost two of Alexandria's residents but several had been injured.
Rosita and Gabriel were being treated at the infirmary right now.
Rick was currently talking to Maggie over the mirror.
Apparently, Daryl, Jesus and Negan had managed to kill Beta. Eugene blinked at the information, before heaving another sigh.
This was good news, indeed.
The Hilltop had still a lot cleaning up to do though… Rick frowned. The herd that had afflicted their allied community had been even larger than the one knocking on Alexandria's door.
There were more casualties there and Carson had the infirmary full. Including, Daryl and Negan who had both sustained some damage in their struggle with Beta.
Eugene was about to inquire about Harry when his own mirror altered him to an incoming call.
Hermione.
The man with the mullet hummed, he had tried to reach her before to ask her about the spell Harry had shown him but had only reached Cindy, who had promised that the witch would call him back soon.
And here she was… looking about as ragged as Eugene and his compardes themselves.
"Eugene, Cindy told me you tried to reach me earlier." She heaved tiredly, brushing a sweaty lock of her forehead.
"Yes, are you well. Excuse me, for pointing this out so unchivalrous but you look somewhat run over." The genius felt himself getting faster with each word, but Hermione only chuckled in response
"I would say so… we've run into a little problem that has been stalled for now. Severus is working on it. But I have good news for you, Eugene. Natania and one of my friends decided to take the ship to the Oceanside. They should be with you in a day or two."
"That sounds good. Thanks." Eugene nodded, feeling relived.
While Michonne and Tara were smiling at the news, Rick had grimaced at the mention of Natania.
But they certainly could need all the help right now. The aftermath two big fights like this… not talking about any damage a huge horde like this might have dealt to the surrounding area… streets, bridges… woods, fields… livestock… they would need to send out scouts to check all those things.
"So, what did you call about?" Hermione quipped up, head tilted to the side curiously.
"Ah yes, it seems we've dealt with the immediate threat for now." Eugene tried to placate the woman, feeling a little stupid for being so worried about a spell, when Harry had gotten so much better with drawing even more complicated magic… but something had felt off and…
"You know, Harry spilt from the main group to lure a giant horde a few miles away from the border. He showed me some equations with protective and focus runes woven around a strange spell… I thought to inquire your thoughts and knowledge about it. Harry said you researched it once." He explained nonetheless.
"Okay… Do you still remember what he showed you?" She agreed easily.
"Sure."
And so, Eugene rattled down the runes, values and equations Harry had shown him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tara shaking her head in wonder at the fast pace and seamless report, he pulled from his memory.
The British witch seemed to listen patiently in the beginning... but then…
"THAT STUPID, FUCKING RECKLESS SON OF A BITCH!"
Everyone flinched violently.
"Hermione?!"Eric and Tara were gapping openly at the young, usually polite woman, while Rick, Michonne and Aaron exchanged troubled glances.
"Damn, what has he done now?" Aaron whispered, worriedly.
"What the hell, lass?" Rick frowned in parental disapproval, looking over Eugene's shoulder at the mirror.
Not that Hermione was listening to any of them… No, she was busy spouting profanities and raging.
"I DON'T HAVE WORDS… OF ALL THE SHITTY PLANS… THAT DIMWIT… FUCKING IDIOT!"
"Hermione! Please! Could you explain at least…" Michonne tried to throw her hat in the ring, until another familiar voice cut sternly through the chaos.
"Granger! Language! And stop shouting for Merlin's sake!" Professor McGonagall's scolding could be heard and she was freaking effective…
Probably all those decades of experience of wrangling rowdy, magical teenagers into compliance.
Hermione was obviously still furious but when she answered her old teacher wasn't screaming anymore.
"Harry wants to summon Fiendfire, Professor!" She hissed in agitation.
"Shit!"
Eugene's brain broke. The stern and proper Professor, who had reprimanded Daryl for growling at her, had cursed.
"Yeah! Shit!" The younger witch affirmed.
"Hermione?! What the fuck is going on?" Tara was cutting in, looking more and more worried.
Hermione dragged a hand over her tired face.
"That spell… He won't use that to lure the Walkers away. He's going to try to burn the entire horde."
Stunned all of them stared at the mirror.
"But burning Walkers is really ineffective." Eugene pointed out flatly. "Harry knows that."
Eric and Tara nodded along. But Rick was twitching in unease.
Something was fishy. Harry knew that burning Walkers was not cost effective at all… so what was going on here?
"Yes, I know." The bushy-haired agreed grimly. "But this isn't normal fire. This is Fiendfire. It's a dark curse, producing enchanted fire of an immense size and heat. Such fire is capable of destroying nearly anything in its path. So, it can easily destroy Walkers… there won't even ashes left when it touched them."
So, an unusually hot fire, able to consume combustible material to the capacity that nothing would be left behind… that…
"I think I will regret asking this… but what's the problem? That sounds like a good thing…" Tara spoke up a little hesitant.
Hermione was already shaking her head wildly.
"No, it's really not. When we researched spells to fight against Walkers, we discarded Fiendfire almost immediately because it's too dangerous! The flames are alive, sentient, intent upon killing and incinerating anything through mere contact. It can't be put out with water and it's extremely hard to control! There are countless cases through history were the casters themselves fell prey to the infernos they had conjured."
Ah… this made sense… Eugene thought.
Even without magic, a fire with the described properties would be extremely hard to manage and to contain…
But if this was sentient… maybe even hungry…
Shit, indeed.
Eugene swallowed.
"Fuck! We need to get Harry. We need to stop him. We need to call him!" Tara was already fumbling with her own mirror, when Hermione cried out.
"NO! Merlin, don't contact him! And tell everybody to stay clear of the area!"
"What?! But you just said…" Tara was shaking her head.
"I said, it was extremely hard to control the flames and that they'll search out burnable material. If that includes Walkers, it includes you! That's why Harry added the protection and focus runes around the spell for himself. So, do not. And I repeat. DO NOT. Under any circumstances. Don't go near the area where Harry is! And don't contact him!" The British witch implored insistently.
"But…" Eric looked helpless between his lover and Harry's adoptive parent.
"Eric! If I understood the magical lady in chief correctly, breaking Harry's concentration even for the split part of a second, could cause the flames to turn against him or they will try to devour anyone going there." Eugene tried to explain.
"YES! Tell everyone to stay put… Especially Daryl and Paul!" Hermione urged them again.
The bushy-haired girl instructed them to stay away until Harry reached out to them or until no fire could be seen any longer. In the worst case they should wait for Natania and her friend to approach the area. With the new magical boat their journey shouldn't take more then two days at the most. Both this friend and Natania were proficient in potions and healing.
Paul felt sick to the core.
He had ended the call with Eugene just a second ago.
Harry had gone on a possibly suicidal solo run.
Again.
He had left them behind with loving kisses, never revealing that he planned to put himself into a life threatening situation.
Leaving them completely in the dark.
Paul wanted to scream until his throat was raw and bleeding maybe then his body would hurt as much as his heart.
But when he opened his mouth to say something to Daryl, no sound would form. The hunter sported a nasty cut on his forehead but it was the frightened anguish in those slated blue eyes that killed Paul.
It had been a long time since he had seen much desperate misery in his lover's face.
They had won against the Whisperers, god damn it! They should be celebrating, rejoicing in their victory… not… not this!
Trembling in fear for Harry's life.
Negan and Carson had listened in on the call and seemed equally upset.
The former Saviour was staring a little forlorn out of the trailer window, before turning to look at them.
It was the pitying expression on his face that caused Paul to find his voice.
"Don't look at us like that!" He hissed, suddenly feeling defiant. "Not like he's gone. Harry's not dead! Damn it!"
A pair of strong arms tugged him against a broad chest.
"Paul's right. He ain't gone. He came back from worse." Daryl grumbled darkly.
That's right.
That's right.
Harry had survived the killing curse as a baby.
Years of abuse from his aunt and uncle.
Harry had faced torture and a fight against one of the most dangerous Dark Lords of all times.
Harry had survived over two years of magical suppression as a teen.
Slavery and rape.
Harry survived being ripped apart by his own magic.
Damn it, Harry had fought against Dolohov and he had come back to them.
Harry was nothing if not a survivor.
Eugene said that the wizard had prepared protection and focus runes for himself. Hermione had even begrudgingly agreed that he hadn't done a half bad job with it. Harry didn't want to die. This wasn't supposed to be a suicide mission.
Fucking dangerous, yes… but Harry didn't want to die.
He had taken precautions to come back to them.
This wasn't the end.
Not yet.
It couldn't be.
Suddenly, they heard Kal shouting from the outlook at the wall.
As one they jumped onto their feet and rushed outside. The morning sky above them was turning into softer, lighter blues, mixing with pale violets, as they climbed up to the outlook.
And then they saw it.
It had to miles away but it was still easy to see.
A huge red pillar. A massive tongue of fire licking at the sky. Horrified they all watched as the flames mutated, splitting and forming a gigantic pack of fiery beasts: Flaming serpents, chimaeras, and dragons rose and fell and rose again, feeding on whatever was thrown up in the air into their fanged mouths, tossed high on clawed feet, before being consumed by the inferno.
It was terrifying.
And somewhere in this hell was Harry.